


O Come (Multiple Times Because Sam Says) All Ye Faithful

by spectaculacularsammy



Series: Not Unless Sam Says [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Ball Gag, Bondage, Christmas Smut, Dildo Gag, Dom Sam Winchester, Dom!Sam, Dom/sub, F/M, Forced Orgasms, Gags, Lingerie, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Wand Vibrator, coming on command, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas in the bunker with Dom!Sam and his <i>presents</i> that he got for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Come (Multiple Times Because Sam Says) All Ye Faithful

**Author's Note:**

> Last year, I wrote a Christmas ficlet for _Not Unless Sam Says_ , and there were some people who said that they wished I wouldn’t have scrimped on the details. This year, the premise is pretty much the same as last year – with a few minor things different to change it up a little, of course – but no scrimping. I promise.
> 
> Happy Holidays to everyone!
> 
> And a big thank you to [lady_ataralasse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ataralasse/pseuds/lady_ataralasse) for taking time from her holiday to look this over for me.

The bunker doesn’t typically get decorated for Christmas. However, Sam knows that you love the lights, the tree, and the decorations, so he has a two foot, pre-lit tree on his desk. There’s a pine scented Little Tree brand air freshener hanging off of one of the branches – it makes the tree smell like pine, and plus, it’s tradition. The star at the top is tinfoil covered cardboard, held to the branch with paper clips. It’s all ‘Winchester Engineering’ at it’s finest, but the tree isn’t the most festive thing in Sam’s bedroom.

You are.

Sam’s just finished dressing you in a pair of sheer, red stockings with red lace cuffs that rest on your legs, mid-thigh. Fastened to those red lace cuffs are little buckles, connected to straps that lead up to a matching red lace garter belt. The few articles of clothing that Sam’s dressed you in hug your curves _perfectly_ , or at least that’s what he keeps groaning in your ear.

Tightly attached to your nipples are a pair of nipple clamps; the bells on the ends jingle softly every time Sam’s tongue laps over the swollen skin or brushes his fingertips over them. With every touch, your chest arches toward him, making your red and puffy nipples graze his firm skin. He kisses you and licks the moans away from your tongue before they can even fall from your lips.

With careful knots and loops, your wrists are bound with the same tie that Sam used on Valentine’s Day – as it turns out, red and gold works for more than one holiday. While he’s busy fixing a not-perfectly clipped garter buckle, your tied hands reach forward and just barely touch the dark hairs on the inside of Sam’s naked thigh. His solid cock twitches in obvious interest at the same time a deep groan comes from his throat, but Sam doesn’t say anything. He only chuckles, lightly flicks one of your nipple clamps, and takes your wrists in his hands.

After testing the knots for the second time, making sure that they aren’t pinching your skin, Sam leads you by your waist over to the bed. A festive red sheet covers Sam’s usual gray blanket, and the cotton material is soft on your bare skin when Sam sits you down and leans you back against his wall. When he sits down on the bed next to you, the bed shifts, and the light sway of your breasts makes the clamps jostle on your pleasantly-aching nipples, the bells jingling softly.

Sam grins at the little sound you make, raises your bound wrists above your head, and threads the red and gold tie through the hook in the wall. When he's done, his fingertips make their way down the insides of your arms and softly trace the outside curve of your breasts. Lightly cupping them in his hands, Sam just barely brushes the pads of his thumbs over the tips of your swollen nipples and asks, “Are they too tight, little girl?”

“No, Sam,” you pant, then pull in a sharp breath through your teeth when he rubs a circle with his thumbs over your nipples, slightly rolling the peaked skin.

“Are you sure? I’ve still got a couple of things to do before we get started….”

Tonight is supposed to be a surprise, at least that’s what Sam said. He didn’t give you any specific details, only said that he knew you’d like his Christmas presents – that much is a given.

The dull and warm ache in your nipples from the pinch of the clamps and the weight of the bells isn’t _painful_ , but not having some sort of stimulation to go along with it is going to have you squirming fairly soon.

Sam’s question is just a question, but his tone suggests that it would be wise to heed his words, so you ask, “Sam, could you maybe loosen them…but just a little bit?”

“Good girl,” Sam praises you with his lips against yours.

His fingers are gentle as he slowly loosens the first clamp, _just a little bit_ , and then a little bit more, until there’s only enough tension to keep them attached to your nipples. When you wince at the slight release in pressure, Sam’s mouth is warm, his tongue is wet, and he uses them both to soothe away the sting. He repeats the same warm, wet, and soothing touches after he loosens the second clamp, as well.

“Better?” Sam asks while softly thumbing your cheek and running his other hand up and down the soft, red material of one of your stockings.

“Yes, Sam.”

Sam hums deeply for his response, then brings both of his hands down to your thighs. Together, they bend and spread your knees, and Sam moves on the bed to sit between them. When he sees how wet you already are, he groans, “You like these, don’t you, little girl?”

Sam gives the bell attached to your left nipple a little flick, making you moan and arch your back, your hands pulling on tie that holds them securely to the wall.

“Yes, Sam,” you answer through another moan.

After swiping one of his fingers through your folds and covering it completely with your wetness, Sam licks it away, hums at your taste, and grins. “I can tell.”

Without another word, he reaches down the side of his bed and comes back up with a black, leather, Y-shaped strap of some sort. Quickly, but with care and precision, one of the Y-shaped ends is buckled on your left leg, just above the red lace cuff on your stocking, the second buckle secured just above your ankle, pulling your leg open wide.

“Holy shit,” you murmur under your breath, feeling a rush of wetness start to drip out of your pussy.

Quickly, Sam’s eyes flick up to yours, and he cocks his head, _waiting_.

“Holy shit, _Sam_ ,” you quickly correct yourself.

“Good girl,” Sam says and gives the entire strap a pull, which actually pulls your leg open further and keeps it there.

As he repeats the same steps with a second Y-shaped strap and buckles on your right leg, you quickly realize that the straps are somehow mounted to the underside of Sam’s bed. However, when he gives the second strap a tug, and both of your legs are spread completely open – with absolutely _no slack_ – you don’t care what they’re mounted to.

Rubbing the insides of your thighs with his huge hands, Sam asks, “Does _my_ little girl like her Christmas present?”

Nodding your head and panting, you answer with a grin, “ _Yes_ , Sam.”

“Is it pulling too tightly?” When you obediently answer him in the negative, he continues, still rubbing your inner thighs, “All I have to do is pull on the straps again and the leather will go slack; it’ll just take a second for me to get you out of it. Okay?”

The eager, “Yes, Sam,” can’t make its way out of your mouth fast enough.

Sam grins at your eagerness and reaches to open the top drawer of his bedside table. He pulls out two black boxes, sets one aside, and holds the other in his hands. “Since you’ve been such a good girl this year, I got you a couple more presents.”

“Sam,” you gush with an excited smile, “You specifically told me _not to_ get you anything. I don’t have any presents for you.”

“Oh, little girl,” Sam groans huskily and looks down at your soaked pussy; _his_ present is right in front of him. “I’m _pretty sure_ you do.” Still only holding the black box in his hands, he asks, “You want me to open it for you?”

With your whole body quivering in anticipation, you nod your head. “Yes, Sam. Please open it.”

He’s slow when he takes the lid off and fits it to the underside of the box. He grins when you try to lean forward to see what’s inside, but the tie around your wrists and the straps around your legs prevent you from moving more than a few inches. Graciously, he tips the box forward and shows you its contents.

“Jesus, Sam,” you gasp and let your head fall back against your raised arms, as you try to catch your breath.

Inside the black box is a ball gag. The black leather straps that will _eventually_ wrap around your head to keep the gag in place, look soft and are nestled in the box with plastic balls of varying colors: red, green, blue, and black. Next to those, is one that’s a metal ring – obviously sized to be large enough for Sam’s cock to fit through – and there's another gag that’s a three, possibly four inch, black and fairly girthy dildo. Unable to help your curiosity, you wrinkle your forehead at it, and Sam chuckles at your reaction.

“Though not for tonight, I thought it looked… _interesting_.” He takes the gag in question out of the box and brings it up to you lips. “Open.”

You do, and Sam slides the thick dildo into your mouth – it’s four inches, _definitely_ four inches – then uses his hand to gently cover your mouth and hold it in place.

The width is similar to Sam’s cock; it stretches your jaw in the same way. The length is _nowhere near_ Sam’s, but it’s made of hard plastic, making it _very_ uncomfortable in your mouth. It just barely rests on the back of your tongue, teasing your gag reflex just enough to make it annoying.

Sam can instantly read the look in your eyes. 

“You don’t like it?”

Frowning – even though Sam can’t see it with his hand in the way – you make a negative noise and shake your head. With a grin, Sam gently pulls it free from your mouth and tosses it on his end table.

“Then, I guess it’ll be incentive for you to _always_ be a good little girl.”

Still with the frown on your face, you try to scrape your tongue on the roof of your mouth to get rid of the plastic and toy cleaner taste, and only with a little bit of a grumble, you answer, “Yes, Sam.”

With that grin still on his lips, Sam pulls a bottle of water seemingly from nowhere and tips it up to your lips to help get rid of the taste.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“You’re welcome, little girl.”

Sam puts the bottle of water aside and takes the ball gag out of the box. You can’t help but laugh when you see the color of the gag nestled in the center of the black leather strap; it’s gold, red, and green, decorated to look like a Christmas tree ball.

“ _This_ is the one I wanted to use tonight,” Sam says.

He brings the Christmas themed ball gag up to your lips, and you open your mouth without being asked. Once the ball is eased into your mouth, Sam only holds the two leather straps at the back of your head, instead of fastening the buckle, just testing.

“This gonna be okay?”

Unlike the _other_ gag that you’d rather not ever have in your mouth _ever_ again, this one only holds your mouth open – doesn’t stretch it _too_ wide – and the ball has a little bit of give when your teeth rest against the plastic.

The idea of being completely bound and open to Sam with the gag in your mouth is suddenly _very_ appealing. Your body begins to quiver with excitement again, your nipples harden further in their clamps, and your pussy starts to throb.

You take a deep breath through you nose and nod your head ‘yes.’

Sam groans and rests his forehead against yours. Kissing your stretched lips, he buckles the straps closed behind your head.

“You’re such a good little girl,” he praises in a gravelly voice against your cheek, running his lips over the black leather strapped around your face. Then, he checks all your bindings. When he asks, “Does anything hurt?” and you shake your head ‘no,’ he tucks a festive red bandana into your left hand.

Looking directly into your eyes and gently stroking your cheek, Sam tells you, “I know you know what to do if anything hurts or you need to stop, but with the tie _and_ the gag, we have to do it differently this time. Just drop the bandana, and I’ll know. Okay?”

Holding tight to the soft cotton, you nod your head, signaling that you understand, then watch Sam lean back to take in the sight of you. Unable to resist the red, black, and silver, decorating you and putting you on display for him, Sam brings one of his hands down to his leaking cock, the swollen head matching the red color of the sheet below the both of you.

Slowly stroking himself, Sam groans, “ _Fuck_. You look so beautiful, little girl; spread wide open and dripping, all for _me_.”

Forced to only _watch_ Sam, you whine behind the plastic gag when he thumbs at the shiny pre-come leaking from the slit. He spreads the wetness up and down his shaft, working his hand slow, then fast for a couple of pumps, then slows down to a stop when the tip of his cock starts to constantly leak. Like always, Sam stops before he comes; he lets his cock twitch and bob with no stimulation, until he calms himself down.

When he wipes the wetness coating his palm onto the red sheet, you whimper, wishing you could lick it clean for him. Your mouth waters at the thought, and a thick string of saliva leaks out of your mouth, around the red, green, and gold plastic gag, and drips down your chin. Using his thumb, Sam wipes it away, then licks his thumb clean. When he’s done, he brings of his hands to your breasts and just barely touches your nipples.

You moan behind your gag, and Sam, just barely jingling the bells on your clamps, he asks, “Does _my_ little girl want me to make these tight again?”

When you nod your head and try to say ‘please’ around the festive, plastic ball, Sam tightens the right clamp. A low noise slips out of you, followed by another when the left clamp is tightened as well.

The tight pinch is a glorious mixture of pain-pleasure, and in wanting to have _more_ pleasure in the mix, you try to press your thighs together. However, with the straps and buckles tightly wrapped around your legs, you’re unable to move them at all. You whine in need and frustration.

“Shhh,” Sam soothes, sliding his hands down your bent and widely spread legs, rubbing them gently. “I know what you need, little girl, but part of me doesn’t want to give it to you. I just know the sooner I start, the sooner this is going be over, and I just want look at you.”

After shifting on the bed, so his legs are under your bent knees and wrapped around your ass, Sam kisses that spot on your neck that makes your toes curl.

“I could keep you like this all fucking night,” he whispers darkly into your ear, nipping at your lobe between his teeth. “I could just sit here and watch you drip and ache for me….”

Sam’s hardly even touched you, but his denial-filled scenarios make you so needy that your head spins. The thing is, Sam knows it. What he doesn’t know is if it’s you or he that enjoys it more, so he keeps going.

“It wouldn’t take much, would it little girl? All I’d have to do is touch your needy clit just a couple of times, and you’d be _right there_ , ready to come for me _._ Is that what you want?”

A pitiful sound comes from you when you try to beg Sam; the gag making it sound even worse. Sam shushes it away and keeps stroking your legs, slowly working his hands up your inner thighs.

“These straps…” Sam traces the soft leather wrapped around your thighs. “They came with another one. I could tie you to the bed and make you even _more_ spread out for me. Little girl, I could fuck you for as long as I wanted…as many _times_ as I wanted, and you’d love it, wouldn’t you?”

With your whole body filled with nothing _but_ arousal, you pussy feels almost painfully empty. You try to push yourself into each and every one of Sam’s touches, regardless of how little and soft they are, but the restraints hold you tight. When Sam’s fingers trace the creases of your thighs and down to your ass, your eyes squeeze shut and you sob behind your gag, _begging_ Sam to touch you.

“But I won’t do that,” Sam whispers in your ear, “Do you know why?”

Even though you’re almost completely consumed by your need, Sam’s voice _always_ comes through. With your eyes still closed, shake your head ‘no’ at his question.

“Because I have another present for you, little girl, and you’re going to love it.”

With your eyes shut, you don’t see Sam reach for the second black box sitting on his bed. Lost in your denial that hasn’t even really started yet, you don’t see him take your present out of the box, but the second he touches your clit with it, your whole body jerks in the bonds that hold you still.

It’s a wand vibrator.

Placed on the lowest speed, Sam just barely touches you with the vibrator, just barely gives you little tastes of what its vibrations feel like. He works so soft and so slow, lighting that heat inside of you that you’ve been craving.

“Does _my_ little girl like this?”

Nodding your head to answer Sam’s question, you also moan and try to spread your legs even wider, hoping… _wishing_ that he’d give you just a little more. Sam knows exactly what you’re doing, and he gives you what you silently wish for…for now. But after not _nearly_ enough time passes, that heat blooms low in your middle, and your moans increase as you feel your orgasm approach. Instantly, your eyes pop open, and from behind the gag, you try to tell Sam that you’re already close.

Reading the look on your face and understanding the noises that you make, but wanting to see how far he can take you, Sam slides the head of the vibrator down to your soaked hole. You almost sob at the change of stimulation, and he groans when he realizes he could easily slide the soft plastic piece of the wand inside your pussy if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

Only letting the vibrator rest where it is, Sam asks, “You don’t think I’m going to let you come _already_ , do you?”

You groan helplessly for your answer and shake your head.

Typically, you like it when Sam makes you wait, but this time, with the clamps, the gag, and the leather straps making you immobile, Sam’s got you so worked up that you don’t think you physically _can_ wait. However, Sam _makes_ you wait and takes the vibrator completely away from your pussy, bringing it up to your right breast.

When he lightly touches the vibrator to the tip of your swollen and sensitive nipple, you practically scream into the gag. It doesn’t hurt – not in the slightest – and when he takes it away, you arch your chest, looking for more.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sam groans, not expecting _that_ reaction from you, and is forced to bring his other hand down to his weeping cock, squeezing the base tightly in his fist.

He takes the vibrator away from your right nipple, slowly brings it over to your left, and his cock blurts out heavy drops of pre-come with every scream he tears from your mouth. With his cock still in hand, Sam alternates teasing your oversensitive nipples, either touching them with the vibrator directly or even touching the metal clamps themselves. Eventually, it’s just a constant moan coming from you, and Sam takes his hand away from his cock to thumb at your nipple not being tormented with vibrations.

Sam _knows_ that if he didn’t have the restraint that he does, he could come just by watching you. Of course, he denies himself right along with you. He _always_ waits. He waits, and he watches.

Like himself, there’s a light sheen of sweat coating your brow and temples, along with the hollow of your neck. He also sees that your fingers are clenching the red bandana in your left hand so tightly that your knuckles have turned white. Your body is so taut, straining in your bonds, just trying to cling to anything that he gives you, so Sam drags the soft plastic tip down your body, back down to your center.

Easing you back into it, he vibrates the insides of your thighs, your slick perineum, and moving at a painstakingly slow pace, he inches his way back up to your clit. You sob at the first touch, right back to where you were: on that edge.

Recognizing your reaction, Sam grits out, “Hold it, little girl,” using that Dom-tone he only ever brings out when he _really_ means something, “Don’t you _dare_ come yet.”

Even though the gag prevents you from speaking clearly, instinctively, you answer, “Yes, Sam,” but it just comes out as another pitiful moan.

Sam doesn’t expect anything more, but his cock aches almost painfully at your surprisingly whole-hearted attempt to answer him in the way that he’s instructed you to do since day one. Reminding both you and himself, Sam whispers low, “Not yet.”

With your Christmas present buzzing against your clit, you endure as much as you can by just relaxing your core muscles and just _taking_ what Sam is forcing on you. Once that method runs out, it’s only your sheer desire to obey Sam that keeps your orgasm at bay. It feels like that lasts for ages and fractions of a second all at the same time, and just when you think you can’t take anything else, Sam pulls the vibrator away.

“ _Very_ good, little girl,” Sam murmurs against your cheek, kissing you softly and wiping away the wetness from your chin and around the gag. “Just breathe for me, and I’ll do it again.”

Clumsily you nod your head, almost grateful that the gag is in place, and that you don’t have to struggle to form words.

For a little bit longer than normal, Sam lets your catch your breath and admires how you’re quite literally trussed up for him: bound, gagged, and clamped, little bells jingling from your nipples. When he bought all of your presents, Sam knew that he’d enjoy them, but he never guessed he’d enjoy them _this much_.

After giving his throbbing cock a couple of slow and loose strokes, he brings the vibrator back to your pussy, just bumping it slightly with the tip. “You ready to go again?”

Of course, you nod your head, then throw it back when Sam makes full contact to your aching clit. With little flicks of his wrist, he makes small circles with the vibrating wand against your sensitive skin, quickly bringing that heat back to your center. The constant and uncontrollable moan starts to escape your mouth and fall out around the gag again, and the insides of your thighs start to quiver as you try to hold back your orgasm.

After licking the tip of his finger, wetting it with his saliva, he uses the pad of his finger to trace slick circles into one of your puffy and red nipples. You whole body twitches, and Sam reminds you again, “Hold it. Be a good little girl for me.”

Sam knows you’re too far gone to even _try_ to answer him, and surprisingly enough, knowing that _he’s_ the one that put you into the state that you are in is hotter than when you _do_ try.

Another gritty, “Fuck,” falls from his lips, because Sam really could watch you like this _all night_. Wanting to watch as long as he possibly can, he rasps, “Just a little bit more. _Jesus_ _Christ_ , little girl, just a little bit more,” but instead of a demand, it comes out sounding like a plea.  

You try to be good; _fuck_ , do you try. The second that you know there’s not a damn thing you can do – except come – Sam’s breath is hot against you ear, and he murmurs, “Not yet, little girl.” His instruction urges you to hold your orgasm back for a few more seconds, and then he tells you the five most beautiful words in your entire world.

“Come for me, little girl.”

As soon as the last syllable rolls off of Sam’s tongue, you let go and come _so_ hard that you scream into the multi-colored piece of plastic, holding your mouth wide open. Your body jolts when Sam circles your clit with the vibrator, making powerful aftershocks fire off, one right after another, but your body starts to thrash when the constant buzzing doesn’t leave your clit.

Quickly, your eyes pop open, and Sam’s face is _right there_.

He watches your body continue to twitch and jerk from over-stimulation and hears your uncontrollable moans. Sam clicks the vibrator up to the next highest setting and groans so deeply that it fucking hurts when you grip the red piece of cloth tighter in your fist. Still, he reminds you, “Drop the bandana if you want me to take the vibrator away.”

 _Somehow_ you manage to jerkily shake your head.

“Fuck, little girl. Then, come for me again.”

You aren’t even close, but Sam quickly gets you there when he pushes the vibrator tighter against your clit, drawing those tight circles perfectly into your skin. Of course, you want to come, but out of habit, your body tries to fight that heat, tries to fight it to be good for Sam.

Instantly, Sam can see it, and his dark voice is in your ear again, “Go ahead, little girl, let me see it. Come for me again.”

Your second orgasm starts at your toes, making them curl into the red sheet and sending ripples of heat up the entire length of your body. Like the first, a scream tears itself free from your throat, your entire body pulses on the inside, twitches on the outside, yet Sam _still_ doesn’t take the vibrator away.

He simply turns it up to the next highest setting.

“I wish you could see yourself, little girl,” Sam grits lusciously into your ear, unable to stop himself from licking your sweet and sweaty skin. “You’re so fucking _wrecked_ , and it’s all for _me_.”

Your mind is screaming, _TOO MUCH! TOO MUCH!_ but not once do you think the safeword, ‘Impala’ or about dropping the red bandana. Your steady moans and cries increase in volume and pitch, muffled only by green, red, and gold plastic, when Sam bites at his favorite spot on your neck, then licks and sucks when you sob.

“ _Mine_ ,” is whispered in your ear, and you tug at the tie on your wrists, _needing_ to touch Sam. He know what you need; he _always_ knows. “Come for me again, little girl, and I’ll untie your wrists.”

With every single muscle in your body clenched almost too tight, the only sound you can muster is a desperate one. Coming _again_ seems impossible, but you do when Sam slides two fingers into your gushing pussy and fucks them up against your g-spot.

Everything turns white. You could be screaming through your orgasm, or you could be completely silent – you have no idea. All you _do_ _know_ is that you’re coming _again_ , for the _third_ time.

The intense vibrations seem to be, yet again, made even stronger, but Sam unfastens the gag from the back of your head with one hand. Not taking the vibrator away, his plush mouth kisses you just once, and _finally_ you’re able to move your lips, unhindered.

Your first word?

“ _Sam_.”  

“Give me one more, little girl,” Sam begs as he pulls at the end of red and gold wrapped around your wrists, releasing them with the swift motion and catching your arms one-handed.

“Can’t,” you get out through your teeth that are finally able to clench.

“Then, let go of the bandana, and I’ll stop.”

“No; don’t want you to st --” You abandon your sentence and beg for what you want; what you always want, “Fuck me.”

With the Y-shaped straps and buckles on your thighs and calves, you’re unable to move your lower body away from the vibrator, but when Sam’s strong hand lets go of your arms, your hands grip tightly to his shoulders, back, hair…whatever you can hang onto – still clinging to the red piece of fabric in your left hand.

“Please, Sam,” you shakily and desperately finish your plea, your body twitching and shaking so hard that it almost hurts… _almost_.  

With equal desperation in his voice, Sam promises between rough and quick kisses, “I will. Come for me _one more time_ , little girl, and I will.”

When you only answer him with bleated and punched out cries, Sam slides one of his hands up into your hair, grabs a handful, and pulls your head backward. With a cry, your upper body follows, giving him access to your nipples.

With the vibrator still between your bound legs, Sam pushes it tighter against your clit, while his teeth catch one of the bells on a clamp. He lets go when you yelp at the painful tug, but he quickly leans forward to flatly lick his tongue against your tortured nipple. Immediately, Sam hears that your needy cries turn low and feels a warm gush from your pussy spill out onto his hand and the vibrator.

Knowing that your fourth orgasm is literally _seconds_ away, even if you don’t, Sam swirls his tongue around your pointed nipple, occasionally dragging his teeth over your abused flesh.

When he hears a whisper-soft, but _so_ strained, “Please,” slip out of your lips, Sam pulls your face back up to his.

With his one hand still tangled in your hair, he rests his forehead against yours. His sweaty hair and skin sticks to yours, and in a tone that is dark, deep… _demanding_ , he grunts, “Come, _right now_ , little girl.”

Instantly, your body obeys.

Everything fades into nothing and back into everything again.

It hurts, and it feels _so_ _good_.

It’s too much, yet _never_ enough.

Fast, but slow.

Hard and _so_ soft.

Then, it’s just Sam.

_Sam._

Watching you fall apart in his arms, Sam takes a minute and savors what is _his_. Then, the soaked vibrator is quickly cast aside, the leather straps are pulled one at a time, freeing your legs from everything but the buckles. Sam gently lays your limp body down on the bed and drapes himself over yours.  

Soft, yet needy kisses are pressed into every inch of your skin that Sam can reach, repeating the paths, slowly coaxing you back to him. When your eyes finally flicker open, he kisses you once, then brings his lips down to your nipples.

His voice is so soft when he murmurs, “Gonna take these off, okay?”

“Mmm hmm.”

As gently as possible, Sam slowly loosens the first clamp. You wince and gasp when it’s removed; blood quickly rushing back under tender skin.

“Sorry, baby,” he coos gently, licking around the marks, hoping that it helps. “You okay?”

“Mmm hmm,” you slowly answer again.

“Almost done.”

Repeating the same gentle steps, Sam removes the second clamp; the bells jingling softly in the quiet as he sets them aside. He’s careful as he holds your breasts in his hands and laps around the second set of marks shaped like the tight pieces of metal previously pinched tightly to your skin, and he does this until your last pained wince fades away.

Paying special attention to the curves that he holds in his hands, Sam drags his lips over every place _except_ for your nipples, and he groans when he feels one of your hands reach up and tangle your fingers into his sweaty hair.

Still with his voice soft and soothing, Sam asks, “That feel good?”

“Yes.”

“You want more?”

“Please.”

Sam brings his tongue back to your nipple, but still only licks _around_ the pointed peaks. “Like that?”

“More.”

Testing, Sam lightly drags the tip of his tongue over the tip of your nipple. When you mewl at the tiny motion and cup your hand tighter to the back of his head, he adds more pressure, a little bit at a time, until he’s using his entire tongue.

By the time he’s given the same care to your other nipple, your body is rocking up against his, eagerly rubbing your soaked folds up against neglected and achy cock.

Still, Sam asks, “You still want it?”

Awake and alert, you actually chuckle at his question.

Sam looks up at you and grins. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

“Of course it is. Only….”

“ _Only_ , what? Something hurt?”

“No, but can you- The buckles; they’re… _uncomfortable_.”

After giving you a light kiss, Sam pushes himself up onto his knees and quickly opens the buckles, tossing the leather straps to the floor when he’s done. He gently rubs the places that he can tell were uncomfortable for you, then caresses your skin through the red stockings on your legs. “Did I tell you how much I like these?”

You smile up at Sam, then nibble at your bottom lip when his hands slide up the insides of your thighs. “I kinda figured.”

“I bought all the colors I could find.”

“That’s my boy: thorough as always,” you tease, then gasp when Sam leans forward to lick a line up your slit.

“Are you getting lippy?”

“I would _never_.”

“Uh huh,” Sam teases you back, then licks you again. “I’m sure.”

You shiver as Sam kisses his way back up your body, fitting himself back between your thighs. He groans when you sneakily reach down and wrap your hand loosely around his cock.

Just barely, you rub you thumb along the ridge. “Can I? Please?”

You’ve been _so good_ for him, and you asked _so_ _nicely_ that he just can’t say ‘no,’ even though he’s been _so close_ this entire time. Huskily, he groans, “Keep it loose.”

Sam reaches up to kiss you, moaning against your lips every time your hand strokes over him, rubbing the tip of his cock against your soaked center. Just when he reaches down to take your hand away, you slide it down to cup and gently roll his full and heavy balls in your hand.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your mouth, then takes your hand in his and raises it above your head. “You ready?”

Just from the two licks of Sam’s tongue, your pussy is already throbbing…again, more, still, you don’t even know anymore. It’s the good kind of throb, but you still ask, “Can you go slow?”

“’Course I can. Are you sore?”

“No; it’s just there’s kind of a lot going on down in Lady Town, right now.”

Sam chuckles softly at your terminology, pressing soft kisses into your skin.

“Earlier was kind of intense.”

“Seemed like it, but _good_ intense, right?”

You bite your lip and answer, “Yes, Sam.”

Sam’s whole body tingles at your choice of answer. That pair of three letter words always twists something inside of Sam, twists it hot and so hard that he instantly _wants_ …has to _have_. A grin plays on his lips. “So, _my_ little girl wants it slow, huh?”

“Please, Sam.”

“Just remember, _you_ asked for it.”

Inch by glorious inch, Sam takes _forever easing_  himself into your soaked pussy. Then, of course, he pauses for a moment and asks in a voice that he fights to keep steady, “You doin’ okay, little girl?”

“Y-yes, Sam,” you stutter out obediently and wrap your legs around his waist.

Still holding your right hand in his, Sam kisses you so softly as he slowly pulls out, then just as slowly pushes back in. Both you and he groan at the same time, but Sam keeps the slow pace. He shakes with restraint every time he slides into you, and you move your hips up against him.

After a little while, Sam shifts, his sweaty chest grazing your sensitive nipples, as he pushes himself up and grabs onto your hips. To get better leverage, you push your hands against the wall, and Sam licks his lips appreciatively at his view.

Every time he moves, he watches the light bounce of your breasts and feels the soft scratch of your stockings on his skin. He’s surprised when you moan out, “Sam… _harder_ …please.

Gladly, he does what you beg him to do, even following you when you rock up into him with a quicker speed. Eventually, the two of you find a pace that has Sam leaning back into you, holding you tight in his huge hands, while you cling to him.

The light kisses and slow brushes of lips change to Sam devouring your mouth, and of course, you let him take… _want_ him to take.... ** _need_** him to take.

With his tongue gliding against yours, Sam can practically taste the heat that re-lights in your center. Just as he does, you whine his name, “ _Sam_.”

“Not yet, little girl,” he grunts, thrusting into you and lets his much-awaited for orgasm build heavy and warm in his middle.

“Yes, Sam,” you answer through a gasp, using Sam’s firm back muscles to ground you.

“Such a good little girl,” Sam groans against your lips, “ _My_ good girl.”

“Yes, Sam,” you repeat, chasing his lips with yours and whimpering when he takes them away. “ _Please_.”

“ _My_ little girl wants to come again?” Sam pounds into you just once and watches your eyes flutter closed as you groan. Then, he does it again. “You don’t think you’ve come enough tonight?”

“Please, Sam,” you beg, shaking with need under Sam's touch.

Sam only groans and keeps moving. Every time he thrusts into you, his skin soaked with your slick slaps loudly against yours, giving your clit little bursts of teasing euphoria that Sam only takes away. When you babble and beg him to let you come, Sam grips your body tighter in his hands, slams into you a few more times, and groans loudly as he loses the hold on his edge that he’s been clinging to since he first slid those red stocking up your thighs.

“ _God dam --_ ” Sam cuts himself off with your mouth and darkly breathes, “Come with me, little girl…right _now._ ”

Immediately, you let go of everything _except_ for Sam.

With a shaky and wild shout, Sam comes; your exhausted, but no less frantic moans mixing with his as you come for the fifth time. Sam tries to keep his mouth on yours, wanting and needing to taste you, but heavy and ragged breaths force him to pull his mouth away, only brushing his lips against yours.

Little sounds slip from his throat and yours as the two of you slowly move with each other, savoring every _single_ ounce of pleasure between the two of you. Every slick slide in and out makes Sam throb inside of you and in turn, makes you pulse and flutter tightly around him.

When he’s sure that you’ve caught your breath, Sam gently slips out of you and pushes himself up onto his knees. His chest still heaves with exertion and release, as his fingers trace the red lace garter belt around your hips, then down the red straps buckled to your stockings.

After he opens up the tiny buckles, Sam looks up at you and sees that you’re watching him. He smiles and starts to ease the lace belt down your hips. When it’s pulled down your legs and tossed aside, Sam takes one last look at the stockings that have turned him on in ways that even  _he_ couldn't anticipate. He slowly takes the lace cuffs in his hands and eases them down your thighs – the proper way, so they don’t end up inside out – and kisses a line down your bare leg.

When the other red stocking is taken away and your legs have been kissed and caressed to Sam’s satisfaction, he reaches up to kiss you. His tongue and lips stay soft as he waits for your arms to wrap around his neck, then pulls you up to him, and gently lays on his back, taking you with him.

Once on the bed, Sam rubs your back, while you kiss his chest. His heart pounds under your lips, and yours thumps against his ribs.

After giving you a couple drinks of water from the bottle that he left on his night stand, Sam swallows a couple mouthfuls too. He takes your right wrist in his hand and checks for any chafe marks. He chuckles when you announce, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, kissing the silver band on your pointer finger.

The intensity from earlier faded away under Sam’s gentle touches, comforting words, and attentiveness. Still, you turn your hand around to stoke the light scruff on Sam’s cheek – to reassure him – and you murmur into chest, “M’sure.”

Sam slides his hands down to your shoulders and rubs his thumbs into your skin. “Doesn’t hurt here?”

“Nope, but I wouldn’t argue over a post-coital massage.”

Nuzzling your cheek, Sam nibbles on your ear. “ _That’s_ what I was going for.”

Pleasantly exhausted, you shift off of Sam, lay on your side, and face him. “There is one thing you could do for me.”

After pulling a blanket over both himself and you, Sam rolls toward you and wraps his arms around you. “Name it.”

Finding your place, you bury your face in Sam’s chest and fit yourself perfectly into the crook of his arm. While you do this, Sam carefully pushes your hair out of your face and lightly traces your brow bone, down the side of your cheek, and along your chin.

A handful of seconds pass. You stop wiggling in his arms, he can feel your warm breath on his skin, and your body goes limp against his. He chuckles when he realizes that you’ve fallen asleep.

Sam’s gentle when he makes sure that the blanket is tucked all the way around you and that your feet aren’t sticking out. Just before he closes his eyes, he kisses the ring on your right pointer finger one more time, smiling at the shiny surface.

Wanting to give your left hand the same gentle kiss, Sam carefully pulls it up to his lips, and when he does, he sees that he red bandana is still tightly clenched in your fist. He didn’t realize that you never did drop it.

Gently, he tries to pull the fabric from your grip, but after a few futile attempts, he figures that short of prying it away from your fingers, it’s going to stay there until you decide that you _want_ to let it go.

The thought does something to Sam. Your trust, love, and faith in him gives him a rush of warmth in his chest, and he pulls you even closer to him, then kisses your forehead.

Sam whispers so softly, “Merry Christmas, little girl.”

This is one of the best that he’s ever had.

 


End file.
